


It's Too Late

by Syrenslure



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrenslure/pseuds/Syrenslure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder has been flirting with Skinner for months. Finally Skinner has had enough. He traps Mulder in his basement office, and demands he make good on his suggestive behavior or stop with the flirting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Written for slashfest, recipient: dustandroses  
>  It was nice to play in this sandbox again; it's been a while. The challenge sparked my imagination but it was hard translating that to paper. I hope I did it justice. 

Skinner leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, as he used his thumb and middle finger to push up the wire rim frames of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. It had been a hell of a week, and despite the large stack of paper work now in his outbox and the clock that showed that it was now almost eight pm, it wasn't over yet.

He'd told Mulder that he needed those forms by the end of the day but unfortunately the agent didn't seem to understand that meant *business* day, nor did he seem to care that Skinner was accountable, as well, when Mulder once again failed to do his damn job. Now, Skinner had to go track him down and play the heavy to get Mulder to finish his damn paperwork before next week's quarterly review, without giving into his frustration and doing or saying something that he'd regret.

Mulder seemed to make a game out of pushing his buttons, like a child testing boundaries in a bizarre game of 'he loves me, he loves me not.' Skinner knew that no one, not even Scully was immune to this treatment by Mulder, but lately, the games had an edge to them that was harder to ignore, and much less innocent than Mulder's usual passive aggressive demands for attention and validation.

If he didn't know better, he'd say that Mulder was actually flirting with him – squeezing into Walter's personal space in the halls and elevators, innuendo-laden wisecracks with cheesy smiles. Mulder was fumbling like an adolescent with his first crush, or more likely, using the immature behavior to make Skinner uncomfortable and off his back. It honestly made Skinner want to strangle him, rather than seduce him, and he didn't really need any more inducement to do either.

Skinner squeezed his eyes more tightly shut and inwardly winced at his admission. There was a good bottle of Scotch at home with his name on it. He just wanted to get this over and go home to have a nice quiet night, where he didn't have to think about the FBI or beautiful, brilliant, annoying agents who worked for him.

Resolved to remedy this situation as soon as possible, Walter pushed away from his desk. He didn't bother to put his jacket back on, tighten his tie, or roll down the sleeves of his white dress shirt. The building was mostly deserted, and appearing intimidating would be more likely to help his cause than professionalism. He just hoped, as he jabbed the down button on the elevator, that Mulder was holed up in his basement office. Heaven help him, if Skinner had tot rack him down any further than that.

The bell of the elevator dinged and seemed to echo through the crowded lower level. Mulder and his X-Files weren't the only things relegated out of sight in the bowels of the Hoover building. It always made Skinner feel a bit claustrophobic to track his wayward agents down in their warren – a feeling Mulder probably encouraged with his propensity for psychological warfare. Skinner had rarely seen two spaces less welcoming to visitors than Mulder's office and apartment. Yet, Mulder made himself perfectly comfortable in both. Skinner gave a brief credit to Scully for having the patience of a saint and the determination of a bulldog in taking on Mulder and his games, though he sincerely wished that she had chosen another time – any other time – to take her well-earned vacation.

The door to the office was half open, and Mulder had probably heard the elevator, and Skinner didn't really care if he was expected or not, so he pushed open the door and walked in without announcing himself. Mulder was leaned back in his chair, with his feet crossed at the ankles and propped up on the corner of the desk. He was nibbling on sunflower seeds from an open package, spread over what Skinner suspected was the paperwork he was looking for, and shooting paperclips across the room into a disposable coffee cup. From the looks of things, he seemed to be about seventy percent from the free-throw line, though it was hard to tell with all of the clutter. Skinner could almost feel his temples throb as he realized that Mulder could probably tell him his stats in greater detail and accuracy than he usually provided in his case reports.

"What brings you to my humble office at this hour, Assistant Director Skinner?" Mulder emphasized his title just enough to send a ripple of irritation up his spine.

He crossed his arms across his chest, and fought back a smirk as he watched as Mulder's gaze was drawn to his wide shoulders and the muscles of his arms. Sometimes, this game they played was almost amusing. "The work day ended three hours ago, Mulder, at which time, those reports, which are serving as your dinner plate, were due, completed, on my desk. Because they were not, I was unable to complete my work. I don't like being kept waiting, Agent Mulder."

"Aww, didn't anyone ever tell you that some things are worth the wait." Mulder smirked and made a show of sweeping the sunflower seeds off the papers into a small pile.

"I'm really not in the mood, Mulder. Just finish them and give them to me. I don't want to be here all night."

"Hot date?" Mulder's eyebrows raised and lowered twice in quick succession, mockingly, as he put his feet down and sat straight in his chair, then picked up a pen to get started.

"That's not really any of your business. Is it?"

"Too bad," Mulder replied, sucking on the end of his pen, as if in thought.

When the tip if the pen started sliding in and out over that full bottom lip, Skinner had enough. "Knock it off, Mulder."

Mulder just looked up at him, with his best expression of casual innocence painted on his face.

"You're not that dumb, Mulder, even if you like to act it. This has gone on long enough," Skinner sighed, "And I'm tired." He stepped forward and planted his hands on Mulder's desk, leaning forward. "I don't want to play this game with you anymore. I don't know what you're after, and I don't care. One of these days, you are going to push too far, and someone's going to take you up on it, whether you're serious or not. You're playing with fire."

Mulder looked at him quizzically, then smiled. "I like it hot."

"I'm sure you do, but it's the people around you who tend to get burned, Mulder."

Mulder's face fell, as if taking that statement to heart, but then he quickly rallied. "Only if they stand too close to the flame, right? So, you've got nothing to worry about, all the way over there. Do you?" He sat the pen down and tilted his head to the side, like a dare.

Skinner picked up the gauntlet and crossed around to the other side of the desk. Mulder stood, as he approached, his eyes darting nervously from side to side, as if he were looking for a way out of the situation he had created, but he made no move to get away. Then Skinner was there, pushing him back against the desk, and he looked into his eyes, and gripped the edge of the desk behind him and his lips parted in anticipation.

Skinner pressed his advantage, not missing the effect he was having on Mulder. He leaned in closer. "Is this it? This what you want, Mulder? Someone to take you on, put you in your place? Someone to let you know when it's enough, when you've gone too damned far. Well, here it is, Mulder. Now what?"

Neither of them was very surprised when Mulder groaned and leaned in to press his lips against Skinner's in a hard, desperate kiss.

Skinner pressed back and put his hands around Mulder's upper arms, pulling him closer, until they were lined up along the entire length of their bodies, Mulder's long, lean frame against his own solid muscles. Even in this, even with the grip that Skinner had on him, no part of Mulder was still. He writhed and pushed and pressed, rubbing himself against Skinner like a cat seeking attention. Skinner slid his hands down Mulder's sides, around to his back and down to cup his firm buttocks in both hands, coaxing him into a rhythm, as he began to explore Mulder's mouth with his tongue.

Mulder's tongue darted against his, and he nipped and licked and sucked on Skinner's lips, as if he was making love to Skinner's mouth and inviting him to return the favor. The he reached between them and started unbuttoning the front of Skinner's shirt, and pulling the tie loose from its knot.

Skinner leaned in and nuzzled the stubble at the edge of Mulder's jaw, and then sucked lightly on the pulse on the side of his throat. A moment later, Mulder pulled the tails of his shirt from his pants and slid his hands up Walter's chest, through the thick springy hair, to rub his fingertips over his nipples. Skinner bit down lightly, then pulled back a bit.

His breathing was a bit unsteady as he demanded, "What do you want, Mulder?"

Mulder's answer was a low, guttural, "Fuck!" He ran his hand shakily through his hair, mussing it further, then looked at Skinner, with an open, raw expression. "Fuck me. Here. Now."

"And then?"

Mulder just shrugged and pulled off his shirt and reached for his belt buckle.

Skinner nodded and finished removing his own shirts, and opened his pants. His dick was straining against the placket of his boxer briefs, and he lowered them to free it and began stroking along its hard length. He smiled and kept up the slow, smooth strokes as Mulder swallowed and stood there transfixed by the site.

"There's a condom in my wallet, Mulder. Get it. And you better have something in this damn mess that we can use for lube, or this is going to be over before it starts."

Mulder slid down to his knees, bracing his hands against Skinner's thighs in the tight space to get the condom. Then, he grinned up wickedly at Skinner and stuck out his tongue to lick a stripe across Walter's knuckles and the head of his cock. Skinner's grip tightened reflexively, and then he let go, his hard cock bobbing toward Mulder's mouth.

Mulder sucked in the head and swirled his tongue around it a few times, then pushed down and back up in a few long, slow sucks, while he reached down and fondled Skinner's heavy balls in one hand. Smacking his lips, he drew his head back and expertly slid the latex sheath into place.

"Mulder..."

A light laugh was his answer, as he pushed back up to his feet, and turned around to face the desk, undoing his own pants and letting them fall to his ankles. He pulled open the second drawer on the right and pulled out a couple of small plastic tubes of reddish-pink lube.

Skinner sighed in relief, and pushed below Mulder's shoulder blades, bending him across the desk. He tore one of the small packages open with his teeth, a faint taste of strawberries on his lips, before he squeezed the contents of the tube onto his fingers. He spread Mulder open with one hand, and used the slick fingers of his other to rub across the dark, little entrance between his cheeks. Impatient and urged on by the backward thrust of Mulder's hip, he started with two fingers, pushing them into the tight rosette with one smooth, steady motion. Mulder gave a half-strangled cry and began to arch up at the invasion. Skinner put his free hand back on Mulder's spine and held him steady while he steadily pistonned his fingers in and out of his ass. When Mulder began to relax and try to arch back to meet his thrust, Skinner spread his fingers a bit, opening him up and stretching the tight muscle to prepare the passage.

"Dammit, Skinner," Mulder whined, "Just get on with it already."

Skinner laughed and pulled his hand out to comply, slapping one round cheek of Mulder's ass, and leaving a sticky handprint, before stroking his latex-covered cock to coat it with the remaining lube.

"Hold on, boy." Skinner grabbed Mulder's hips and pressed the blunt end of his cock against Mulder's entrance. He entered all of the way, in one long, slow stroke, and he could feel the slow stretch of Mulder's ass, as he adjusted to the thick length splitting him wide.

Mulder grasped at the top of the desk looking for purchase, and kept up a steady, barely audible, colorful commentary combined with insults and random bits of begging. When he got around to "move already, damn you," Skinner did just that, and began a quick, hard rhythm that had his balls slapping against Mulder's ass and them both grunting with every stroke.

One of Mulder's hands reached down and began to stroke his own cock in time with the strokes, and Skinner pulled back on his hips a bit to give him a little more room and kept up the pace. Mulder's breath seemed to hitch in his chest, and he tensed all over, causing Skinner to lose his rhythm and begin pounding restlessly, close to the edge of his endurance. Another hitch, and a long held breath later, Mulder was coming with a whimper and moments later, Skinner was following him down.

Another forceful stroke or two, and Walter was buried balls deep in Mulder, and leaning over his back, trying to catch his breath. A drop of sweat dripped from his brow and ran down the smooth length of Mulder's back. Slowly, carefully, he grasped to edges of the condom and eased back, pulling out.

He had just fucked his subordinate over his desk, and he was at a loss for words. He disposed of the condom, and started to redress silently. Mulder just flipped over and leaned back on his elbows on the desk, making no move to dress or clean up, as he watched Walter try to pull himself back together.

Skinner looked at him warily, and then bent his head to tackle the small buttons on the cuffs of his shirt. Mulder sighed, and pulled up his pants. "There's a coffee pot in the break room across the hall, two doors down. Put on a pot and bring me a cup, you too. Cups are to the right, over the sink. I'll finish up."

Skinner nodded and blinked slowly, grateful for the reprieve, still unable to reconcile his behavior, but unable to regret it. There was still a bottle of whisky at home with his name on it. There'd be time enough for that later.

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://panthermoon.com/dreaming/viewstory.php?sid=79>  



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